Poem For The Day | Arthritis Information

The snow melts off the hills into a solitary stream

That winds through the forest.

The wind is a cool, crisp, quiet, echo…

The sun glistens off the last piece of ice,

on an old oak tree.

The animals emerge from their winter nap

To take a breath of spring…

Taking all this beauty in

I’m wondering.

At this particular moment in time,

Can the rest of the world hear this…

                                                               Cinda